Shiho's Past
by lunae lecem
Summary: the title says it all...


**Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan**

* * *

I was born to Miyano Atsushi and Elena. I do not know how my parents met each other. I had never asked. They might have met at work. They might have met during a vacation, or an outing. They might have met during a science conference.

Perhaps there is a more sinister circumstance that had caused their fate to collide, a dark secret that ties the knot between them. Their love could have blossomed in a dark laboratory, where they were working on a massive yet confidential project. You see, my parents were part of a dangerous criminal organization, an organization so secretive that none but its members even know of their existence, and only the highest-ranking members have the privilege of learning its name and meeting the boss. The lower-ranking members simply refer to this organization as the Black Organization, an unofficial title given in reference to the black clothing members usually wear, and the cruel and evil thinking of most of its members.

Why had my parents chosen to become part of this criminal group? For my father, it might have been the chance to prove his theory that had driven him to join the ranks of the organization. My father was shunned by the scientific community because of his wild ideas that were non-mainstream. 'Mad Scientist', they used to call him. Naturally, nobody was willing to sponsor any of his researches. So, when a mysterious company agreed to fund his projects, he jumped at the chance, realizing too late that there would be no going back. As for my mother, I do not know. I simply cannot imagine how an angel fell into the depths of Hell itself. I would never know, for my parents died in what the Organization called 'an accident' when I was young, too young to remember much about them. Everything I know about my parents was obtained through my own investigations and, of course, the accounts of my sister.

Ah, yes, my sister. Seven years my senior, Miyano Akemi was my only true friend, the person who was constantly by my side, through thick or thin. After our parents' deaths, my sister and I moved into a small apartment provided by the Organization, and she took up the role of our mother, cooking meals, cleaning the apartment, caring for my every need (back then, she was eleven and I was four). Our personalities could not have been more different. In contrary to the cold, distant and cynical person that was I, my sister was cheerful, friendly, kind and caring; the kind of person who prefers the warmth of the sun and the vast open space of a meadow than the cold, dark and musty room that was the Organization's private library. It was her outgoing personality that had made her many friends in her schooldays. Each day, as the bell of the local primary school rang, signaling the end of another school day, I used to wait eagerly for her return, and she would tell me stories about school, her friends and teachers, interesting events and so forth. And I would listen with awe, taking in every word. Every morning, after my sister leaves for school, her stories of the outside world would find its way into my mind, and I would picture myself in her shoes, experiencing the joys of school for myself. I envy my sister. She could go to school, where she would have fun with her friends or laugh at her teacher's antics, while I'm stuck at home with nothing else to do but read all day. I had always consoled myself with the fact that in three years' time, I would be joining my sister, attending school and making friends.

However, the Organization had other plans for me.

* * *

My brilliance was first recognized when I was around six years old. It was a typical morning. My sister was out shopping and I stayed home, reading my father's old books. It was basic chemistry, stuff like the structure of an atom, the chemical formulae of compounds and so forth. I was intrigued by the way elements could combine to make new compounds and molecules and was studying it intently when the Organization decided it was time to pay us a visit (once in a while, the Organization would send someone to check on us and provide us with some money for our daily necessities ). One of the members casually strolled into the apartment and found me in a bedroom. When he saw what I was reading, he gave me a pop quiz, for his own amusement. I guess the answers I gave him blew his mind, for he nearly smacked into the wall in his haste to get out of the room to contact his superiors about his new discovery. A year later, I found myself at the airport, staring back at my sister who was there to see me off, as I prepare to board a plane that would take me to America, to six years of loneliness and isolation.

* * *

The Organization had enrolled me into a special boarding school for the gifted, a school for the elite. The school is well known for helping prodigies discover and hone their skills, helping them become true masters of their trade. But, however prodigious my would-be-schoolmates are, they are still human beings, and human beings do not like anything that is different than what they are used to. I felt a pang of envy at the thought of my sister, who attends a normal school, back home in Japan, where she truly belongs. As for myself, well… my schoolmates had never really accepted me. Sure, my auburn hair was considered somewhat normal, but it was my Japanese-looking face that had earned me various nicknames such as 'freak' and 'hybrid'. My peers distant themselves from me, and when I tried to talk to them, they either ignored me or called me names before going about their businesses as if nothing happened. It was two months before I decided they were not worth my time. I began to isolate myself from them, preferring to have my meals alone and do pretty much everything else all by myself. Thus, I spent the next six years in loneliness, with only my sister's letters to keep me company.

* * *

It was a few days after my thirteenth birthday when I finally returned to Japan, a fully qualified biochemist. My sister was there at the airport to greet me. I could barely recognize her. She looked absolutely nothing like the petite young girl who smiled sadly while waving me goodbye at the exact same airport years ago. Instead, the person who stood before me was a slim and graceful woman twenty years of age, with long, jet black hair and bluish green eyes. She wore a huge ecstatic smile as she reached for me and gave me a bear hug, and for once in many years, my heart was filled with happiness.

My sister then treated me to dinner at a sushi restaurant as a belated birthday gift which doubles up as a homecoming meal. We exchanged stories as we dined. Most of the time, it was my sister who did most of the talking. I did not tell her much about my experiences in America. I did not see the need to ruin this joyful evening with my depressing stories. I had completely evaded my sister's question about the people I met at the States. After that question, she stopped talking about America. Though she did not show it, I could tell that she knew America had changed me. I was no longer the cute, innocent little sister she had once known.

We switched topics. It was my sister's turn to tell me all about her life during the past six years. As expected, after completing primary school, she was enrolled into a local secondary school, where she made more friends and had a typical teenager's life. Although she missed having her little sister around, she was never lonely. After graduating, she'd even found work at a bank and was working as a bank teller under the alias Hirota Masami. Quite a normal life, if you overlook the occasional Organization meetings and assignments, and the fact that she had to spend her Saturdays off in the Organization's gun range, training in the use of various firearms.

I blinked when my sister mentioned the Organization. The stories she told of her life were so peaceful, so normal, I had momentarily forgotten that she was still part of the Organization. What she told me next had brutally reminded me that I, too, cannot escape the Organization's clutches. My sister told me that I was to meet my new superiors at a certain pharmaceutical laboratory located at the outskirts of the city, where I would receive my assignment. After paying for the food, we took a taxi back to my sister's apartment, where I would spend the night wondering what the next day would bring.

* * *

I decided to take a taxi to the meeting place. The driver was surprised when I told him my destination. He said that the address I had given him was that of a laboratory abandoned decades ago. I told him flatly that there was where I wanted to go. When he asked what a thirteen-year-old girl would want to do in an abandoned building, I offered him a tip if he could get me there within fifteen minutes. He asked no further questions. When we finally got there, the driver had offered me some advice: "You be careful out there, young miss. There's no telling what kind of danger lurks out there." I had replied with a wry smile.

After the taxi had left, I took a good look at the building. It certainly seemed abandoned, with windows nailed shut and construction materials strewn all around the building, but I had a gut feeling that this place is no as deserted as it looks. As I surveyed the surroundings, a middle-aged man clad entirely in black appeared at the entrance and bade me to follow him, which I did. The man led me inside the building and through multiple doors and hallways. The interior was completely vacant, save for a few pieces of tarpaulin that lay gathering dust on the floor. I was beginning to think that this really is an abandoned building, until my company opened a well-hidden door leading to a secret stairway that would take us below ground level and into the most advanced research centers I've ever seen.

The place was huge; the main hall was about the size of my sister's apartment. The hall was set up as the main workspace of the area, with numerous office desks arranged in neat rows, each desk equipped with a state-of-the-art computer. Researchers in white lab coats bustled around the place, carrying files and research papers, discussing latest findings. Eight rooms were located at the right side of the Office (the hall), each room having a glass panel built into its wall. Peering into the panels, I could see advanced and well maintained laboratory machinery, various chemical filled flasks and other equipment, shelves full of chemicals and drugs, neatly arranged books and files, all placed in separate rooms, so that each room had a definite purpose.

I was ushered into the mini library, where another man stood, clearly awaiting my arrival. The man was tall, dressed in a black trench coat and hat, with waist length hair dyed a shade of silver. The image of a killer. His cold, murderous eyes, if anything, reinforced the idea that the man before me is a professional assassin who murders in cold blood. The man studied me, sizing me up before introducing himself as Gin and his partner as Vodka. His voice was just like his gaze, freezing cold and very deadly, sending shivers down my spine. He stared at me for a few moments before extracting a file from a nearby shelf and throwing it onto the table which stood right next to me. My eyes followed the file and when it landed on the table, I stole a glance at the cover. Emblazoned on it were the words 'APTX 4869'. Gin spoke: "That, was your parents' research. Your job is to continue their work. No questions asked. You have two weeks before we come to check on your progress." With that, he left, along with his partner, but not before grabbing one of the scientists and ordering him to show me around (which he did by tossing me a spare lab coat and showing me an empty desk where I can begin work).

* * *

And thus began my life as a researcher, a scientist. Day after day I would follow the same routine: walk from my own apartment (they got me my own apartment, as my sister's was too far from the laboratory) to the seemingly abandoned building, entering when no one was looking; go down the flight of stairs that led to the research center; sit at my desk and begin work; go to the nearest eatery for lunch; walk back to the research center to resume work; return to my apartment around midnight to rest, before repeating the entire procedure the next day. There are no holidays or weekends off, or more like, I do not give myself holidays. What is there to do on days like those? All I could think of was work. Even when I was at home for my mandatory rest period (well, the human body has its limits), I would still be thinking of the most recent developments of my research.

Of course, my social life had taken a toll. Months after my return to Japan, the only people I know in this land are my acquaintances and my sister, who had always succeeded in coaxing me to have lunch with her.

Nevertheless, my continuous hard work had paid off. Two weeks after I first started, Gin had kept his word and sent a few representatives to check on me. They were more than satisfied with my work and my superiors decided that I was ready for a bigger role. Slowly, I gained rank and within half a year, I was head of the project. Sherry was the codename the Organization had given me, a member who had proven her worth and would now be recognized by the Organization as someone of importance. For many of the members, having a codename is an honour, something they longed for; to me, however, the codename symbolizes my deep involvement with the Organization. I was becoming one of Them, the ones who had stolen my parents, my childhood, and now, my entire life. But what can be done to change that fact, to change my fate and my future? As Vermouth (another high ranking member of the Organization; an enigmatic, secretive and highly dangerous woman; the so-called Boss's Favourite) had quoted, the Organization can be of both God and Devil; their allies have nothing to fear, for even the might and majesty of the low cannot bring them to their knees; those who oppose them, however, shall be annihilated.

* * *

It was a few weeks after my promotion, and everything was normal, or as normal as it can get when you work as a scientist for one of the most dangerous criminal organization the world has ever seen. My sister and I still see each other, though not as often as before. Earlier that day, I had received yet another message from her, asking me to meet her at a nearby café for a drink. I had arrived at our favourite haunt about ten minutes before the prearranged time, so I was admittedly a little surprised to see my sister seated at a table near the window. She smiled warmly and gestured for me to sit. I took the seat directly opposite hers, so that we could talk face-to-face. We placed our orders, then proceeded to chat about our lives; my stories focused mainly on my research (though I had doubted she understood) while hers are about her job as a bank teller and the people she met. After fifteen minutes of idle talk, I could feel her getting to the climax of the entire conversation. It seems that my sister had met someone recently in a car accident, a certain Moroboshi Dai. She had hit him with her vehicle when he tried to cross the road. The side of my lips curved a little when I noticed a faint blush painted on my sister's cheeks when she began to describe him. "You really like him, do you, Nee-san?" I thought. Little did I know, my sister's fateful encounter with this mysterious man would cause her untimely death and ultimately, decide my own fate.

* * *

Another year had passed. My sister started going out with that Moroboshi guy, who was newly recruited by the Organization and placed in the same division as my sister – robbery and gathering of resources. I guess they got along pretty well, and things went uphill for them. Meanwhile, I was focused in my work, to the point where it became an obsession. Sometimes, I would work on a new theory for days, forgoing sleep and meals, only resting when my body cannot withstand the abuse any longer. My sister still takes me out to lunch, where she would advise me to lighten up, relax and take care of my body (well, a fourteen-year-old is a growing child). It was also during these brief moments together that she told me all about her boyfriend. Quiet, mysterious and intimidating, he seems unreachable and is quite a loner. Yet, beneath that cold mask, he is a caring person (as my sister describes), and although he does not show it, she knows that he is always watching her back. He might be socially awkward, but she likes him just the way he is. He had also wanted to meet me, which I found very strange (after all, who would want to meet some mad scientist who generally keeps things to herself?). It was then that I began to suspect that this mysterious character was not who he seemed to be.

* * *

Two years later, the Organization finally saw Moroboshi's true colours and exposed his true allegiance with the FBI. I think it happened a few months after our official meeting. If he had planned to use my influence to his advantage, I'd say he had succeeded. The Organization started to notice him, his sharpshooting abilities and his potential as a very capable assassin after he started meeting me. After successfully pulling off a two-million-yen bank heist, he had gained some reputation among Organization members and he was instantly promoted. He was given the codename 'Rye' and was assigned to work under Gin. He was supposed to meet Gin at a prearranged meeting place to… make things official. That was all I had heard from the other members. Something must have happened at the meeting place and the next thing I knew; Moroboshi Dai was confirmed to be an FBI agent and was henceforth expelled from the Organization. Never once would I have imagined that any party could infiltrate the Organization. Sure, many had tried, but to be able to penetrate so deeply into the Organization…that must leave the Organization in quite an awkward position, moreover when the infiltrator is the rumored Silver Bullet, the only one who is capable of bringing down the Organization. That must have been quite a shock for my sister. Or was it? I have a feeling that she knew something was up even before this event.

* * *

There was a breakthrough in my research. Of course, I had found it completely by accident. That day, I had fed my miracle drug to the lab mice that were always at my disposal. And as usual, most of the mice dropped dead after tasting their poisoned food. Yes, I have developed a one-of-a-kind drug, the only untraceable poison the world has ever seen, or at least, no method has been developed to detect its presence in an organism…yet. Although it's a far cry from its true purpose, the Organization was no less pleased with my work. A lethal undetectable poison? Now that was something they could really use. And use they did. APTX 4869, a supposedly wonder drug intended to prolong life and restore youth, became a very convenient way to dispose of those who knew too much, much to my detestation. I find it very distressing that my creation is being misused, my invention used as a murder weapon, my drug used to take lives. But I dare not protest, for not only will I lose my life, the life of my sister would also be endangered.

I snapped out of my thoughts and focused on the steel cage before me and the ten dead mice lying on the floor of the cage. No, wait; I sensed some movement in the cage. I took a closer look. It seems that one of the white mice had somehow evaded death and was now squirming at the corner of the cage. Curious and disbelievingly, I unlatched the cage, reached out and grabbed the survivor with my gloved hand. A closer examination revealed that the mouse, instead of dying, had shrunk in size, which I had found most intriguing. Perhaps I am closer to success than I had previously thought. For some reason, I did not feel obliged to report this to the higher-ups. No doubt there will be hell to pay when They find out, no, _if_ they find out. I have got to think more positively. For now, I would have the pleasure of knowing something that They do not.

* * *

I was in a fairly good mood. Two months ago, I had made the right decision not to report my latest findings to the Organization. I might just have saved a person's (though I prefer to call him/her an interesting experimental subject) life. The strange case started as follows: Caught spying on Vodka during an illegal transaction, Kudou Shinichi had positively seen too much and has got to go. Gin had opted for death by poison, my poison, naturally. They had left the scene quickly after force-feeding the poor lad the drug as the police were roaming around the area. The boy was left for dead, but strangely, the body could not be located. Therefore, a couple of Organization members (I included) were dispatched to the Kudou residence, occupied solely by the victim, around two weeks after his supposed death. Much to my annoyance, since it was my drug Gin had used on the boy, I had to participate in this investigation. The first investigation turned up nothing and we left the house as quickly as we came. When still no body turned up, a second trip to the mansion was ensured. This time, something came up, at least for me. While the property was generally undisturbed, just as we had left it, I had noticed that nearly all of Kudou's clothing, presumably from his childhood, had been removed from the drawers. I remembered the lab mouse incident and developed suspicion instantly. Could it be that, just like the mouse, the victim has managed to survive and had instead…why, this could be interesting. Having being denied the chance of testing the experimental drug on Ki'ichiro Numabuchi, a failed assassin, I must work on saving this test subject. So, I had labeled Kudou Shinichi as 'deceased' in the Organization's records. Now that the meddlesome party was out of the way, all that is left was to get to the specimen before They find out.

* * *

My sister was acting very strange. She seemed…jumpy and restless during our occasional meetings together. Sure, she still smiles and tells me to get a boyfriend, but I could sense that she was hiding something, something reckless, dangerous and potentially lethal. I did not question her about it. After all, everyone has the right to keep secrets. But is it still wrong to pry for other's secrets if you suspect something dangerous is going on, if you fear for your loved one's lives? I found the answer to those questions a little too late, when my sister's big secret ultimately cost her life.

* * *

Three days had passed before I had learned of my sister's death. Being busy as usual, it was only by chance that I took a quick glance at the newspaper. Dated two days ago, the news of my sister's 'suicide' was on the covers. I remember snatching up the newspaper and reading the few reports concerning her death vehemently. '_A 25-year-old woman was found dead in an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of Beika City. The victim, who was later identified as Hirota Masami, was shot once in the chest in what appears to be a suicide, although police have yet to rule out foul play…' _I did not continue further. I continued starring at the article in disbelieve, allowing the news to wash over me. It must have been hours before reality finally sank in, that my sister was dead, that she was never coming back, that I had lost not just a sister, but a friend, an ally. Hot tears began pooling at the corner of my eyes as I tighten my grip on the newspaper, crumpling it. For once in many years, I cried. Every ounce of emotion that I had bottled up all those years: pain, sorrow, grief, hurt… I let it all out. I did not remember much after that. All I know is that I had woken up in the laboratory feeling so sick and tired that all I wanted to do was to curl up, close my eyes, go to sleep and forget about everything else, the world and the harsh reality that surrounds it.

Then came the anger. Why wasn't I informed of my sister's death? Don't I have the right to know something as important as this? Had the Organization not care to at least tell me, her closest living relative, of what had befallen her? Unless…the Organization had ordered her execution, signed her death warrant; yes, that made sense, she being the girlfriend of an FBI agent and all. The Organization must have feared that she may contact that man in the future. But still, they should have compensated for her death, not hush it all up and hide the truth, even from me, her younger sister…No, I would not tolerate this! I demand an explanation, a _proper _explanation and a suitable compensation for my sister's death, and I will not rest until I get them.

* * *

I cannot believe it. I _simply_ could not believe it. Two weeks have passed and they still have not given me an answer. Two weeks! More than enough time for Them to come up with a satisfactory explanation and a proper compensation. Instead I was received with silence, shut doors and petty excuses. In a last ditch effort to provoke some response from Them (Gin, especially), I had grabbed Gin by the collar of his trench coat (something which I had, admittedly, not dared to do before) the next time I saw him and demanded answers straight off his face. And guess what he had said? "_Still asking about your pathetic sister? Very well. Your sister died of a suicide. She had failed her assignment and had not had the courage to come back and face our wrath. I hope the answer was satisfactory, my dove. Now hurry along and get back to your station. You have wasted enough time enquiring about your sister, who is better off dead, in my opinion." _That was the final straw. I would have to do something drastic if I was to get the answer I wanted to hear. I would stop doing the Organization's dirty work. I would not follow their orders until they comply with my request.

I boycotted my research.

Yes, I knew what the consequences were. I would most probably be executed for defying the Organization. But at that point, I did not really care anymore. The person whom I loved and cared for is gone, dead, beyond my reach. The whole world is meaningless. There is nothing left for me here. I was contemplating suicide myself, but what good will that do? The least I could do for my deceased (i.e. murdered) sister was to demand a full compensation for her death, make sure that she did not die in vain. Therefore, I shall strive on; work to bring this godforsaken organization, the very same organization which had brutally snatched away her life, down to its knees…what was I thinking? These people are too powerful. What can an 18-year-old girl, with no other abilities besides conducting scientific research and shooting with a pistol, who has virtually no contact with the outside world, actually _do_? I decided not to think about that, as I slowly waited for Judgment Day. Either they give in or they take me out. At that point, I knew what the verdict was going to be.

* * *

As I had guessed, they have decided to take me out. I was sitting on a swivel chair in my basement laboratory, waiting for Them to come to me with their answer. The door opened and Vodka stepped into the office. He gestured for me to come upstairs to the deserted rooms of the old pharmaceutical laboratory. I followed him begrudgingly (why should I go and meet him when _he_ was the one who owed me something?). I found Gin upstairs, dressed in his trademark trench coat and hat, looking as malicious as ever. "_So, what is your answer?_" I asked brusquely. "_Tsk, tsk, so rude. Hasn't your mother taught you any manners?" _He smirked. I was not amused. "_What is your answer?_" I demanded again. "_I'm sorry, darling, but we cannot do as you ask." "What!? Why? Is it too much to ask for…" _I began to shout, but Gin cut me off. _"However, we cannot take your rebellious act lightly. You are a threat to the Organization and its plans. Therefore, it pains me to say that the Boss has ordered for your immediate execution."_

* * *

I was in a dark room. My left hand was cuffed to the nearest wall. My eyes could barely make out the locked door and the small garbage chute (not that I would fit in that tiny opening anyway). Just a few moments ago, I was standing outside this room, arguing with Gin over the death of my sister. Now it looks like I would be joining her. Gin had grabbed my arm suddenly and thrust me into the nearest room while Vodka produced a set of handcuffs. "_Well, our times together were…fun. Now I shall have the honour of personally ending your life. Until then…sit tight!" _ I glared at him with as much contempt as I could muster, while he laughed and shut the door behind him.

I was alone in my prison, awaiting my sentence in the cold and dark. For someone awaiting death, I felt strangely calm. In a few moments, I shall be departing this cruel world, full of pain and loss, lies and deceit. Free from suffering forevermore. A small smile escaped my lips. I did not regret putting myself in this position. I only regretted that it was Gin who had gotten to plan my demise. No, not necessarily. I felt my pockets and removed a small red and white capsule. It was the prototype drug, APTX 4869. I stared at the tiny capsule resting on my palm. So small, yet so deadly. My only chance to escape pain and humiliation. There is no way I would let that bastard have the pleasure of torturing and killing me. No, I shall take matters to my own hands. If I must die, I shall die with dignity. The capsule sat in my palm, as if luring me to try it, to end it all before those two come back for me. How ironic, that I shall die by my own creation, the very reason for my existence. Without further hesitation, I popped the drug into my mouth and swallowed it.

That had turned out to be the best decision I had ever made in my life.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Yay, my first fiction! How was it? Good? Bad? Horrible? Please tell me what you think. Constructive criticisms are always welcomed.**


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